I Suffer Not the Heretic: A Warhammer 40’000 Short Story

Greetings all,

This has been ready for absolutely ages and by ready I mean I cannot bring myself to look at it anymore. The link below, I Suffer Not the Heretic (I know, not the most original title), is a ten thousand word short story. It has everything, a beginning, middle and even an ending. Though of course the plot door is always left somewhat ajar. So please, have a read, download and feel free to throw some feedback my way and with any luck enjoy.

I Suffer Not the Heretic by E J Henries

Cheers all, have an ace one.

Ed

Inquisimunda: Booker – A Step Forward Ch.2

Afternoon all,

A little later than expected (shocker), here’s the next model with a micro narrative for my main Inquisitor warband. The first part can be found here. The narrative will tell a short story but my aim is to make each piece stand alone as a snapshot of the character. 

 

Clumsy hands wrestled with the door. His head thumped against the thick steel. 

‘Out’, thump;’out’, thump; he would lurch forward, letting his thick skull lead the way to freedom. Yet the door stood cool and unyielding.

‘Out!’, thump. He left his head resting against the thick door. 

‘Puh, Puh, puh-lease?’ His hollow plea echoed inside the sparse cell.

‘Booker?’ The metal woman’s voice sang through the room. His head jerked away from the door.

‘Time to go Booker. You’ll behave this time?’

He stared upwards, a glazed look plastered across his features. He answered without knowing whether the metal woman would hear him. ‘I, I good’. Gormless features twitched with hope. 

‘Heads up display now active’, Booker’s gaze swung left to right looking in his cell for the metal woman. 

‘Booker, follow the the =][=’ her voice was calm, reassuring yet firm.

He continued to turn till he stood facing the door once more, letting out a grunt ‘out’. 

‘Yes Booker, out, and there will be plenty more to thump than just a door’.

The corner of his mouth reared up, locking in an ungodly grin.

‘Look after Cal and take care you big lug’.

   

   
I enjoyed putting Booker together, he’s pretty much stock built but I did green stuff his neck to alter the way the head sat. I also repositioned the left leg, however I need to clean the joint up. Despite posting him up I actually plan on doing some more work on him. The skin needs a wash and re-highlighting and the =][= tattoo needs blending in, it was supposed to look like the skin was raw but it’s a bit too obvious at the moment. Overall I’m fairly pleased and I’m happy to move on to the next model of the warband. Thoughts are always welcome.

Cheers for reading, have an ace one.

Ed

Inquisimunda: Redacted – In the Beginning

Evening all,

I finished the Night Lord esque scout earlier in the week. He’s the first of a squad, the models are all assembled but this one is the only painted one for now. As I mentioned in the previous post, the concept is loyal traitors. 

The main reason for the below colour scheme was quite practical: I haven’t painted any Night Lords since Midnight Blue went out of production, and I really want to paint my true scale Night Lord Sorcerer on Disc of Tzeentch, so I needed a model to test the new blues out. Thus the Scout got the Night Lords colour scheme. 

Time for a picture, some narrative and some clearer shots. 

 

+Redacted+ – In the Beginning

“What is your name?” 

The bound figure dragged his gaze upward from where he sat toward the speaker. He had played this game long enough, silence would be his answer now.

“Give him five more hours,” the speaker said.

“By your will,” said another man, who lingered in the corner. 

Armoured heels scraped the grilled floor as the speaker left the confines of the cell. The door slid open and, for a moment, dull luminescence washed through the baron room.

Darkness crept back into the confined cell as the door slid shut. Chains creaked, the bound figure raised his head to stare at where he thought the lingerer watched from. The ruined corner of his mouth reared up in a sneer.

“I do not fear you,” the lingerer said, though the bitter scent of perspiration betrayed his anxiety. The tied figure’s shaven head twisted around to follow the shuffling lingerer as he made his way behind the bound man. A short, sharp jab punched in to the back of his neck; he felt an icy chill spreading under his skin, creeping through his veins. The lingerer then clamped some form of helm on to the man, darkness no longer wrapped him in its embrace. Instead, the inside of the helm began replaying images of savage butchery; of midnight clad warriors sowing terror in their wake. Over and over again, the bound man witnessed atrocities, which always ended in the same way. He saw an armoured warrior wreathed in lightning, carving the Imperial Aquilla into the flesh of some screaming dissident.

“What is your name?”

The bound figure shook his head, then locked his stare with the speaker’s.

“I know not,” his voice dragged through the room like gravel.

“What legion do you serve?”

The hard lines of his brow furrowed. Pale lids closed and behind his black eyes, he saw bones spread eagled; lined with bloody, veined feathers. A cracked skull with protruding horns lay in the centre of it all, staring with hollow sockets. The silence broke. He heard a caw from the darkness, it resonated deep within the man.

“The Night Lords,” he kept his intonation level.

“I see, and whom do they serve?”

This question was far easier, the bound man knew, and the knowledge illuminated the darkest corners of his mind.

“The Inquisition,” he said.

“Excellent. My name is Valdrath,” the speaker leaned in. The dim light of the room recoiled from the leering skull mask he wore, “and you have a mission.”

  

  
 

I realised after I took these shots that I had forgotten to base him! The colour scheme is Kantor blue on a black undercoat, highlights of Calador Sky up to a bit of Teclis. Then this is all toned sown with a 50/50 wash of Drakenhof and Nuln with a dash of water (though I think Lahmian technical would be a better thinner in future). The Lightning uses the same shades of blues with a light grey streak, I just mixed Eshin with White Scar, followed by a thin line of White Scar at the forks. 

That’s all for now, I hope you’ve enjoyed.

Have a great eve,

Ed

Inquisimunda: Tulliver Quinn – In the Beginning

Evening all,

I may have started another Inquisitor warband by accident, the first will take priority, but here’s the intro for Tulliver Quinn with a few pictures for good measure. 

  

Tulliver Quinn – In the Beginning

Tulliver Quinn sat perched on top of one of the most gething uncomfortable rocks in existence; like a jagged scar rent up from the ground, it tortured his weary frame. Three hours he had been sat here. The intel had clearly been off, but he’d be damned if he was going to skulk off this bastard rock in failure. 

His over clocked Long Las rested comfortably in his hands, his left kept the barrel steady while his right remained on the grip. The stock sat against his aching shoulder. 

The targeting optics in his helm began to recalibrate at movement in the distance, through the scope he made out a window shutter on the fourth floor open. Finally his target had come into view. A gaunt man of thirty years or so. He backed away from the window and took a seat at a desk, no doubt to stiff some more of the miners out of their rations, not that Quinn cared a damn. The last job he’d done back on Drem had been dirty business. Perhaps offing this chump would balance the scale somewhat.

“He has failed this planet” Quinn breathed.

The targeting optics finished calibrating and he sighted the pale man down the barrel. He pulled back his index finger, slowly squeezing the trigger. A beam of crimson shone from the barrel, tracing a true line barely visible against the red sand of the planet, straight into the gaunt man’s face. His eyes reddened, the skin around them tightened, cracked then blackened as the beam punched through his forehead, and only stopped when it hit the wall behind him. Gravity then did it’s part, gripping the ruins of the man’s skull. He slumped down lifelessly onto the desk. Wisps of smoke began to drift from the blackened remains of the man.

Quinn let his arms relax, he attached the strap to his Long Las and slung it over his shoulder. He slid off the jagged rock onto the red sand, stretched his weary limbs and began to make the long trek back to the extraction point.

   

    
 

I figure that will do for now, I’ll pop the Night Lord esque Scout up later in the week.

I hope you’ve all had a great weekend.

Have an ace one all,

Ed

Inquisimunda: Mortem Calvariam – A Step Forward Ch.1

Evening All,

It’s been a while! I’m going to try a new feature, if it’s popular I will make sure it becomes a regular thing. The idea is that I will post a painted Inquisimunda model with a micro story on a regular basis. Each story will fit in to an overarching plot which will draw heavily from my gaming groups Inquisitor and/or Inquismunda campaigns. So here goes…

Why does my coat have two different types of cuff?

Why does my coat have two different types of cuff?


I'm ready for my close-up.

I’m ready for my close-up.


Focus damn you.

Focus damn you.

Chapter 1 – A Step Forward 

Cal’s hand hovered over the terminal. Eyes shut and brow furrowed beneath his leering skull mask. 
‘Time’s up Cal’. Vayla chimed over the vox. 
His hand clenched shut for a moment, then snapped open above the terminal once more. 
‘I was almost there. Just a moment longer’.
His breath steamed against the inside of his faceplate. He shivered as the temperature of the cramped room dropped. Cal strained further. A crack began to snake across the terminal screen, forking out like lightning across the display panel.
‘Just tell me’ he spat out like venom. 
He could feel the tension building beneath his temple.
‘Cal, Graves is two corridors away; unless you want to spend another three months in the infirmary I suggest you get out of there, as in right now.’
‘I said’ he drew in a breath ‘TELL ME’ Cal plunged his will into the terminal. His head snapped back as the machine regurgitated streams of information directly into his conscious mind.
He took a step back from the terminal, letting his hand fall on a nearby railing for support. ‘At last, you stubborn bastard. Vayla’ Huh, interesting.
‘Here’.
Haldrath is holed up with the Scavs in sub level 106, section D. I intend to throw the book at him.’ Heavy footsteps echoed close by. Cal dropped his voice down to a whisper. ‘Get me Crane as well. Patching through co-ordinates now.’
He made his way across the steel floor, being careful to avoid the random bottles strewn throughout the room, toward the jimmied open window. Sheet of rusted metal is more apt, why is Graves slumming it like this. Thick industrial smoke greeted his exit. Gregor Haldrath would not escape interrogation. Not again.

Till next time, have a great one all.

Ed